


Red, gold and green

by gonattsaga



Category: Pride (2014)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Gay Lib, Gay Pride, Hope, Light Angst, M/M, Pride, Solidarity, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:57:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3466829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonattsaga/pseuds/gonattsaga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he first noticed Jonathan, he remembers thinking he was tall and broad and fit and just manly, but he was also wearing a dress and it might have hung loose in all the wrong places, but it still managed to bring out the vivid blue of his eyes and for some reason it was captivating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red, gold and green

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song "Karma Chameleon"  
> Unbeta'd oneshot

_Loving would be easy_

_If your colours were like my dreams_

_Red, gold and green_

 

1. 

_When we cling, our love is strong_

_When you go, you’re gone forever_

 

Just like the shop is the meeting place for every gay activist group in the city and a _lost and found_ box for every kid (or adult) fresh out of the closet, their flat is equally welcoming especially on nights like this with London’s entire gay community buzzing with the joy and excitement and adrenaline and, _well, pride_ after the march and maybe it’s a bit reckless but Gethin keeps the front door wide open and for a while it seems as though at least half the community has managed to cram itself into the small flat, with some people even spilling into the staircase and a few smokers loitering on the pavement just outside.

Gethin doesn’t mind it, he’s buzzing himself. And Jonathan… well, he’s the life of any party. Gethin looks around to see if he can spot him, but the living room is too crowded to make out anything and he can’t hear him either so there’s a good chance that he’s not even home yet.

 _That’s fine_ , Gethin thinks. _But he’s probably around here somewhere._

Mark Ashton breezes by suddenly, wielding two collection buckets. Mike is trailing after him as always, also carrying a stack of buckets that is swaying precariously in his grip.

“What’s that?” Gethin asks Jeff as he flutters by in their wake.

The flamboyant boy twirls around briefly, “Oh, haven’t you heard? Apparently we’re collecting for the miners now… you know, the ones on strike?”

The boy winks playfully before he disappears into the kitchen. Gethin barely refrains for rolling his eyes. He feels so old, it’s almost funny. _But supporting the miner’s strike_ , he thinks. _That sounds like a proper cause, and a worthy one_. Something flares up in his chest, like the ghost of his fighting spirit and he feels his pulse pick up a little as he thinks, _yes, this could be something, this could be something for Jonathan too, if I can just_

He takes a deep breath and starts wading through the throng of party people, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

“I’ll open up the shop, give you more room”, he tells the boys and grabs the keys from the counter.

Making his way through the crowded flat, Gethin glances around and automatically searches for his boyfriend, but isn’t too bothered when he still can’t find him. Although there’s a small voice at the back of his mind nagging with worry, _what if what if_ , but he firmly pushes it away. And once he gets downstairs, he can hear his boyfriend singing further down the street and thinks, _good, see nothing to worry about,_ and pretends not to notice just _how much_ tension drains out of him.

 

 

The music was blaring, and the air was thick with cigarette smoke and the faint smell of sweat. The club was cramped with people mainly belonging to two categories: queens and gym-goers, and then there were a few in-betweeners like Gethin being bounced between the two, and a few lesbians as well.

When he first noticed Jonathan, he remembers thinking he was the most in-between he’d ever seen; tall and broad and fit and just _manly_ , but he was also _wearing a dress_ and it might have hung loose in all the wrong places, but it still managed to bring out the vivid blue of his eyes and for some reason it was captivating.

What was also captivating was the way the fabric of the skirt twirled around him when he sashayed from the dance floor to the bar. And Gethin felt a sudden surge of _something_ , some electric impulse to get closer and before he had a chance to talk himself out of it, he elbowed his way over to the bar and squeezed in next to the other man.

He pretended to try and catch the bartender’s attention, but his main focus was on the tall drag queen that he could sense in his peripheral the whole time. Only when he felt the other man eyeing him up did Gethin turn his head and glance back, _playing it cool_ , although years later Jonathan will tease him and say he was being adorably obvious, but Gethin refuses to believe it.

At the time, if Jonathan really did think he was _adorably obvious_ , he was enough of a gentleman to not show it. He merely _smirked_ at Gethin and Gethin _smirked_ right back.

Jonathan’s hand was warm and clammy, and that’s why Gethin clung on as firmly as he did, he told himself. So he wouldn’t slip out of his grasp and Gethin would lose him again in the sea of dancing bodies. They wormed their way into the mass of people and found a spot fairly close to the centre of the dance floor, and Jonathan put one of his big paws firmly on Gethin’s hip and pulled him close. Gethin went with the pull and let his arms fling up to the other man’s shoulders and joined them loosely, hugging the taller man as closely as he dared.

He let his eyes drift closed and just _felt_ the music seep into his bones, felt the vibrations travel from the speakers and through Jonathan into his own flesh, and then back into Jonathan again. The bass was pounding against his chest. Jonathan was hot and firm and safe, and he smelled musky and sweet all at once, and it was driving Gethin _mad_.

“Are you sure Jonathan’s interested?” Mike asks delicately.

Gethin barely refrains from bristling at him. He follows their curious glances into the street where Jonathan is dancing and blowing his marching whistle and singing _tainted love, baby such a tainted love_ and he feels a mixture of fondness and exasperation well up inside. He turns back to the kids and meets their carefully neutral looks with a stubborn glare and tells them he’s _just at a bit of a loose end at the moment_ , and the truth in that statement _stings_ a little.

“He just needs something to occupy him, a project”, he adds, trying to convince himself more than anything.

The boys nod quickly, and he nods too.

As the night slowly starts rolling into morning and most people have scattered off, Gethin makes his way back downstairs and stops just outside their front door and gazes down the street where Jonathan is still dancing around. He’s abandoned the whistle, thankfully. Gethin knows they’ll have plenty of complaints from their neighbours in the morning as it is. He shoves his hands into his pockets and slouches a little, tensing up when a particularly cool breeze punches him in the shoulder.

He’s uncomfortably aware of the looks he’s receiving from the last stragglers, curious, amused, even as they thank him for a great party and waves goodnight, he knows what they’re really thinking, _look there he is, the gay liberal, trying not to seem embarrassed by his crazy boyfriend_ … And he isn’t embarrassed, not really. He loves that Jonathan is crazy. He fell in love with Jonathan because he’s crazy, and beautiful and brilliant and funny and passionate. And he’s still all those things.

 _He is_ , Gethin tells himself. _He’s still_ all _those things._

He’s also bitter and cynical and a flippant arse half the time. But Gethin chooses not to focus on that. He waits for as long as possible before he calls out to him, and tries his best not to sound too bothered, _playing it cool_ , and when Jonathan finally jogs up to him, out of breath and pupils blown, he almost expects him to tell him he’s being _adorably obvious_ , but he doesn’t tell him anything, he just kisses him soundly on the side of the head, hard enough to knock it aside, and then pushes past him and disappears up the stairs to the flat.

 

He waits until the next day to tell Jonathan about L.G.S.M. The older man is nursing his hangover in the kitchen and Gethin makes him tea and toast. Jonathan makes grabby hands at the former and pulls a face at the latter. Gethin doesn’t mind. He slides onto the seat opposite and cradles his own cup.

Gethin is just trying to come up with the best way to phrase it, or rather working up the courage to bring it up, when Jonathan snaps at him to _spit it out already_ and glares at him over the rim of his tea cup. Gethin frowns at him. But Jonathan merely grumbles something and looks away.

“Mark Ashton”, Gethin starts, and is immediately interrupted by a scoffing sound from his lover and has to take a deep breath before continuing. “and some of his friends—“

“Mike”, Jonathan mutters.

“—And others, they’ve started a new project…”

“What for this time, gender neutral lavatories in libraries?” Jonathan mocks glumly.

“No”, Gethin says patiently. “To support the miner's strike.”

Jonathan huffs, half-amused, "The _miner's strike_? How did they come up with that?"

“I said they could use the backroom.”

“Of course you did.”

“And I said we could help, maybe.”

“What”, Jonathan says and sits up a little. “You signed up for this?”

Gethin attempts a shrug, but it probably comes off as a tense spasm. He glares a little at his tea. Then nods, and looks up defiantly.

“I signed you up too, but you can do what you like of course… I just thought you might find it interesting.”

Jonathan watches him silently for a moment, and Gethin fidgets a little under the scrutiny but maintains the eye lock. Finally, Jonathan shrugs and drinks the last of his tea before getting up and saunters lazily out of the kitchen, muttering about going back to bed. Gethin looks at the used tea cup that he’s left for Gethin to wash up, and usually it would irk him but now he’s too caught up in that shrug to really care.

 

2.

_Every day is like survival_

_You’re my lover, not my rival_

 

It’s a good day. Gethin can tell by the smooth skin of the other man’s brow and the way his shoulders hang loose. No tension, no pain, no nausea. And then there’s the tired smile he sends Gethin’s way to take into consideration as well, and the hand that lingers at the small of his back when he squeezes past him to get to the kettle. It takes all of Gethin’s self-control not to grab him and hold on for a second, just one more moment of closeness.

Jonathan pours them tea, milky for him and black for himself. No sugar. He delivers the cup with a kiss on the cheek and Gethin’s eyelids flutter at the contact, nearly closing just so he can focus all of his attention on that one _touch_ , but it’s over in a heartbeat and he blinks at Jonathan, returns his smile and tries not to let it show just _how much_ he loves these moments and thus reveal how rare they are. It’s a good day, and Gethin wants to keep it that way.  

“I’ve been thinking”, Jonathan says and sips some tea with a subtle slurp before he pulls a face at it.

“Careful”, Gethin murmurs and leans in to brush his lips against the other man’s.

A noncommittal _hm_ escapes him and he briefly kisses back, but then turns away to put the tea cup down. Gethin looks down at his own, blows on it carefully and watches as the small wisps of steam curl over the rim.

“That miner”, Jonathan says. “He got me thinking…”

 _Of course he did_ , Gethin doesn’t say because there’s no way to guarantee it won’t come out bitter. It took two songs for him to rein the taller man in that one time when they first met, but it took a passionate speech about Stonewall and an invitation to a meeting with the newly-founded Icebreakers to get him to _stay_. Jonathan fell in love with his passion for causes, Gethin knows. The causes themselves might have been secondary, but passion is universal and Gethin’s was catching. But apparently not anymore. These days, it takes someone else, _anyone else it seems_ , to convince Jonathan of an idea.

But Gethin doesn’t voice these thoughts, it’s not about him. It’s about Jonathan, and it’s about rekindling that passion in both of them, _between_ both of them. It’s about creating more good days. So he smiles in encouragement and sips his tea, and listens to his boyfriend go on about how _inspiring it was really_ , to listen to Dai’s speech, how it reminded him of what actually matters in life.

Gethin turns away slightly then. He’s still smiling, but it feels strained and doesn’t want Jonathan to spot it.

“Lately I’ve only really had one reason to get up in the morning, you know… one good thing in my life, and even that is bittersweet because I keep fucking it up, so I was thinking… why the hell not?”

“That’s great”, Gethin mumbles.

He concentrates on the good news, the fact that Jonathan has agreed on a project and he doesn’t even want to analyse the rest. It makes his chest tight to hear Jonathan talk like this, like his life is meaningless, whether or not he really means it, because by saying he thinks life is meaningless, he’s also saying _their_ life together is meaningless. And the fact that he doesn’t _get_ how that would hurt Gethin’s feelings, or if he does get it and clearly doesn’t care, that’s just too painful so Gethin rather not think about it.

“I think it could be fun”, Jonathan keeps going and Gethin can sense his gaze on the side of his face but he doesn’t turn, just nods and rearranges the dirty dishes in the sink. “And also, it might make me… less of a fuck-up, for a while at least.”

“What do you mean?” Gethin says automatically and crouches down to grab the washing-up liquid from under the sink.

“Well, I’m sick of disappointing you all the time.”

Gethin looks up at him. The other man holds his stare, and there’s no bitterness on his face, no gleam of hurt in his eyes or tension in his brow. He shrugs carelessly and Gethin is the one to frown as he stands up again.

“You’re not a disappointment, Jonathan…” he says.

“Yes, I am”, Jonathan says immediately, as if waiting for his cue. “It’s okay. It doesn’t have to be a big deal, we’ll just… _I’ll_ just try harder. And I’ll make it up to you.”

“Jonathan…” Gethin says again, and it sounds like the intro to a denial but he trails off.

Jonathan smiles a little, and shrugs again. Gethin puts the washing-up liquid down on the counter and pulls him into a hug. Jonathan hugs back immediately and kisses him soundly on the side of his head and Gethin tightens his embrace.

“It’s not disappointed, you silly man”, he mumbles into his boyfriend’s shoulder. “It’s concern. Learn to tell the difference…”

“There’ll be no need, because you won’t be feeling it anymore”, Jonathan says and Gethin chuckles then.

“Jonathan, there is nothing you can do or refrain from doing that will ever make me stop being concerned about you. I _love_ you. Like it or not, concern is by-product of that.”

Jonathan laughs and leans back enough to grab Gethin’s head between his hands gently and captures his lips in a deep kiss. Gethin melts into him and eagerly kisses back. It’s a _very_ good day.

_The end._


End file.
